Protect and Serve Shifting Forces

Protect and Serve: Shifting Forces

Cassidy McKay

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cassidy McKay

ISBN: 978-1-60521-755-0
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Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
315 N. Centre St.
Martinsburg, WV 25404
www.ChangelingPress.com
 
Editor: Bill and Margaret Riley
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Protect and Serve: Shifting Forces

Cassidy McKay

Aurora Monroe has detailed plans for her life -- and not one of them includes being barefoot, pregnant and under the thumbs of two decidedly alpha males. But what’s a girl to do when she has two sexy shifters both trying to claim mating rights?

When two paranormals on opposite sides of the war save an injured human, they unintentionally mark her as their wife. Bonded by blood, fire and passion, the gryphon and phoenix shifters do everything they can to keep their new human mate safe.

Getting her to go along with the plan is a different matter. She has no intention of following their orders. Found in defiance of both human laws and paranormal traditions, the battle for their rights turns into a fight for their lives.

Sex between a human and her two shifters can be spectacular, but is it worth risking everything for a chance at forever? Sometimes, the only way to have it all is by Shifting Forces.

Varick’s Blog (1)

“Paranormals are just like us. They deserve equal rights, equal status under the law, and no less than our full understanding and cooperation!” I watch from the outskirts, close enough to hear, but not a part of the crowd. A smattering of applause greets the pretty redhead as she finishes her speech on the stairs in front of the white columned government building.

A heated, spicy tingle warms my body as she steps down, her nipples tight and visible in the oh-so-proper sweater she wears over a blouse against the chill wind. Staid, gray slacks demurely outline her curvy figure.
Mmm. Definitely my kind of woman
… proper on the outside, but all fiery and full of fight on the inside.

Only a few dozen people brave enough to show up for the rally now stand in the square. It’s mostly your typical malcontents and troublemakers, but there are a few who look like they might actually give a damn.

I can’t decide whether the woman has balls of steel or is dangerously naïve. More than likely, a little of both. A tall, unkempt man makes his way to the front of the group, standing on the concrete base of a light pole like a monkey, spouting obscenities and tossing crap about how humans are better than paras. The crowd grows, becoming restless as the man yells, gaining the attention of the cops outside City Hall.

I stay in the shadows of the storefront across the street, where I can watch without being seen. Easier said than done most times, but I’ve gotten good at it. Most of us have. Coming out as a paranormal isn’t a fashionable, celebrity thing to do anymore. It’s a life sentence. The government took care of that. So much for equality.

I’m Varick Gerard. Used to be a paramedic, but now I’m labeled a criminal. Just because I’m a shifter, I was legally forced out of my profession, my home, and the comfortable life I once lived. Phoenix shifters aren’t inherently evil. Given the choice, I’d rather save lives than take them. I don’t like to fight. While some of the other paras here live for nothing else, it just isn’t my thing. I don’t steal, I don’t destroy things, and I don’t kill people unnecessarily. I may have lost everything else, but I still have my principles.

Me, I’m a loner. It’s a phoenix thing. Most of us are. I don’t mind being around people, I’m just not into long-term commitments. Sex? Yeah, I’m definitely into that. I can burn up a bed like nobody’s business. And that woman up there -- she’d be right at the center of my pyre of passion on most days.

But not today. Something’s in the air, I can feel it. I’ve been chased out of more cities than I can remember, just because I choose to survive. What’s left of the local police force musters in front of the building. Riot shields and batons at the ready, the leader shouts into a megaphone for the crowd to disperse. Chaos has a strong following in this town.

The cops advance in a restless, unsteady line -- a phalanx of toy human soldiers pitting themselves against the evil paranormals. Same shit, different location. That isn’t what’s bothering me, though. There’s something else, just on the edge… It’s like I can almost feel it, taste it, but it keeps slipping past me.

“Hey, phoenix-dude, come on! The goon-squad is coming out to play.” A short, pimply vampire pauses, motioning for me to join the unruly mob gathering in the shadows, waiting for their chance to pick someone off.

He’s annoying -- hangs around all the time, always trying to get me to kill something with him. I think he just wants to see what a phoenix can do. Lucky for him, I’m not really a joiner. “No thanks, I’m heading out. Good luck with that.”

He shrugs and sprints off, his fangs standing at attention and ready to rumble. Idiot. Time to leave this burg. I don’t need the cops on my ass or any more problems than I already have. It’s not worth the trouble.

A woman’s annoyed yell yanks me to attention. “Leave me alone! I haven’t done anything wrong!” The redhead struggles against one of the officers, landing a solid whack on his neck where the protective gear doesn’t protect. My smile fights to break free -- the girl’s a fighter, all right.

“Submit willingly, Miss, and you’ll just be charged with disorderly conduct.” The cop doesn’t look old enough to have graduated high school, let alone wear a badge. He can’t seem to decide between juggling his shield, going on to a more willing arrestee, or grabbing his cuffs and taking his chances against the wildcat.

My bet is on the girl.

“Disorderly conduct, my ass! I’m exercising my right to free speech. You have no right to arrest me for speaking my mind. I didn’t call this gathering, and I’m
not
going to jail!”

Oops. Wrong thing to say to a cop, Lady
. The officer drops his shield, whips out his handcuffs, spins the girl and cranks her arms up behind her back in an impressive display of defensive tactics. He has her cuffed in no time flat.

Freedom of speech only applies when you’re saying what they want to hear. Outright support for paranormals definitely puts you on the wrong side of popular opinion. It usually gets your ass thrown in jail on a trumped-up charge, with an obscenely long wait for a court date. Been there, done that.

Guess the redhead has bigger balls than brains. Pity, I could have done something with that girl’s fire-- and those cuffs… oh yeah, she has definite bedroom possibilities.

I continue down the street, willing my growing erection back down to a simmer. The area’s getting a little too crowded with all the “normals” forcing their opinions on everyone else.

My gut clenches into a tight fist of need when I glance back. The girl is searching in my direction, clearly looking for a savior. But that’s not me, not anymore. I hung up my badge a long time ago. I’m nobody’s hero.

* * *

The rogue paras quickly take advantage of the police distraction, surging from the shadows to overwhelm the crowd of humans in a violent free-for-all. Screams of terror, shouts of command and a chorus of confusion are punctuated by the sharp staccato of gunshots in an all too familiar refrain of horror.

I hear the distinctive, scratchy radios of the military echoing off the buildings in the square before their camouflage personnel trucks rumble into view. They hop out of the back of their trucks and line up like good little boys and girls, ready to follow the government’s every decree. Unfortunately, they’re not very discriminatory when they get called in by locals. If it moves, it’s a target. Whether the recipient is para or normal, the military either can’t tell or doesn’t want to.

The rich, coppery scent of fresh blood whips by me in a zephyr of wind.
Get the fuck out of here! What are you waiting for, Christmas
? But another smell blows in the wind, too, breaking through my shell of antipathy with a sledgehammer of need.
Yes!
That’s it. That’s what has been drawing me since I came here.

Separate from the mob, between the rogues and the military, a small knot of police and civilians huddle near the stairs on the edge of the square. Surrounding themselves with their ineffective riot shields, they look frantically toward the reinforced government building.

Fools! It’s too far. You’ll never make it
! Heat rushes under my skin as I stand in the middle of the street, staring at the doomed group. The auburn hair of the woman shines like a beacon between a gap in the scarred plastic shields. Inhaling as a frigid blast of wind brings in the storm, her scent envelops me like a warm blanket of need, numbing my highly developed sense of survival.

Bullets rip past me, smacking the wall like bugs on a windshield. I ignore the danger, letting the unexpected feelings surround me, settle in and fill the empty places in my soul.
It’s her. It’s the girl
. My cock rises in my jeans, constricted by the tight denim. Awash with unreasonable lust, I shake my head, forcing the desire back. “No way. Not her, not now.”

I fight against my conscience, my innate sense of order battling with the instincts of my kind. I have nothing to offer her, no way to win against the horde determined to kill the humans, or the military determined to kill everyone.

Against my will, I feel the fiery burn. The rush of adrenaline flows through me -- scintillating, arousing, and powerful. My bones shift, transforming arms into wings, flesh into fire, and common sense into passionate fury. Lifting into the sky with a rush -- one word, one thought, one feeling -- consumes me:

Mine
!

Kender’s Blog (2)

I’m Kender Russell. Been in the military since I turned eighteen, and I’ve made it my career. Turns out I’m good at killing. Paras, normals, shifters, whatever needs dead, I’m all over it. I kind of have a taste for it, I guess.

Most of the guys in my unit think I’m
normal
, like them. By that, they mean human. But I’m not. There’s a few of us paranormals who’ve kept under wraps. I’m a gryphon shifter. Yep, eagle front half, lion back half -- wings, tail. I’ve got the whole gryphon package. But nobody here knows that. Kind of like that old “don’t ask, don’t tell” bullshit. They didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.

We fight against the scum who slink into the darkest parts of the cities. Crime rate’s gotten so bad it’s chased people out into the rural areas. The humans thought they’d be safe out there. Just makes them easier targets. And the abandoned cities? Well, paranormals have been on the outskirts long enough.

When we first started mixing with humans openly, those in positions of power started passing laws. Small ones at first, slipping subtle things in with popular, vote-getting bills against crime and corruption. Most people were too frightened of their own shadows at that point to read the fine print. They just wanted someone to take over and clean up the mess. I can understand that, it’s a normal response. But now the politicians are using those laws against us. Paranormals are considered “the mess” and we have to fight to survive.

Some of us are fighting for equal rights. Same story throughout history, I’m afraid. If you have money, it’s the rebel thing to do -- to come out as a paranormal. We have politicians, high-society, celebrities, and successful business people among us. It’s a lark for them, and having money cures a lot of ills.